ear the Sultan chose the Mosque of
Tophaneh, which stands on the shore--probably as being nearer to his
imperial palace at Beshiktashe, on the Bosphorus. I consider myself
fortunate in having reached Constantinople in season to witness this
ceremony, and the illumination of the Golden Horn, which accompanies it.

After sunset the mosques crowning the hills of Stamboul, the mosque of
Tophaneh, on this side of the water, and the Turkish men-of-war and
steamers afloat at the mouth of the Golden Horn, began to blaze with more
than their usual brilliance. The outlines of the minarets and domes were
drawn in light on the deepening gloom, and the masts and yards of the
vessel were hung with colored lanterns. From the battery in front of the
mosque and arsenal of Tophaneh a blaze of intense light streamed out over
the water, illuminating the gliding forms of a thousand caiques, and the
dark hulls of the vessels lying at anchor. The water is the best place
from which to view the illumination, and a party of us descended to the
landing-place. The streets of Tophaneh were crowded with swarms of Turks,
Greeks and Armenians. The square around the fountain was brilliantly
lighted, and venders of sherbet and kaimak were ranged along the
sidewalks. In the neighborhood of the mosque the crowd was so dense that
we could with difficulty make our way through. All the open space next the
water was filled up with the clumsy _arabas_, or carriages of the Turks,
in which sat the wives of the Pashas and other dignitaries.

We took a caique, and were soon pulled out into the midst of a multitude
of other caiques, swarming all over the surface of the Golden Horn. The
view from this point was strange, fantastic, yet inconceivably gorgeous.
In front, three or four large Turkish frigates lay in the Bosphorus, their
hulls and spars outlined in fire against the dark hills and distant
twinkling lights of Asia. Looking to the west, the shores of the Golden
Horn were equally traced by the multitude of lamps that covered them, and
on either side, the hills on which the city is built rose from the
water--masses of dark buildings, dotted all over with shafts and domes of
the most brilliant light. The gateway on Seraglio Point was illuminated,
as well as the quay in front of the mosque of Tophaneh, all the cannons of
the battery being covered with lamps. The commonest objects shared in the
splendor, even a large lever used for hoisting goods being hung with